


and your heart's against my chest

by earlgrey_milktea



Series: milktea's saso2017 fills [17]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic, Fluff, M/M, Origami, Power Outage, Prompt Fill, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-17
Updated: 2017-06-17
Packaged: 2018-11-15 00:59:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11219931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earlgrey_milktea/pseuds/earlgrey_milktea
Summary: 2 pieces about bokuto's love for akaashi and why they work.[ed sheeran lyrics prompts]





	1. i was made to keep your body warm

**Author's Note:**

> original prompt card [here](http://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/22249.html?thread=11792361#cmt11792361)
> 
> title from ed sheeran's "kiss me"

Koutarou rummages through the drawer blindly, sticking out his tongue in concentration as he attempts to feel his way through the mess of objects inside. He’s pretty sure there’s a lighter in here. Somewhere.

“Did you find it?” Akaashi’s voice floats from the living room.

“No, I di—Oho, wait, aha!” Koutarou’s fingers close around a cylinder-shaped thing, and he pulls it out, thumbing the switch on the side. A flame springs to life and he jerks back suddenly. “Found the flashlight!”

“Great,” is the response, almost too quiet to hear.

Koutarou closes the drawer, and hurries back to where the other boy is waiting. The power had gone out three hours ago. They’d just finished their dinner and are about to settle in for a movie or something when everything went dark, causing Akaashi to drop the plate he was washing. It landed in the sink, thankfully, but Koutarou knows how rattled Akaashi is. He’s never really liked the dark or the storms.

He returns to the living room to find candles on the kotatsu table. He lights them quickly, and they give the room a warm, if not slightly eerie, sort of glow. Clicking the lighter off, he places it in the centre of the table, next to the tissue box.

“You okay?” he asks Akaashi as he joins him under the blankets. The heat’s gone off, but the quilts are still heavy enough to retain some heat.

Akaashi hums. “I’m okay.”

“Are you cold?”

“A little.”

Koutarou shifts over, until he’s pressed flush against the other boy. Akaashi leans into him, arms tucked into the middle of the sweater he’s wearing. His skin is cold even though the temperature hasn’t dropped that much in the past few hours. Koutarou reaches for Akaashi’s hands, tugging them out from under the sweater, and rubs at his fingers gently.

“How come you’re always so warm,” Akaashi sighs. 

“So I can keep  _ you _ warm!”

Akaashi huffs out a laugh. In the flickering light of the candles, his green eyes are dark, giving off a strange silver shimmer. His skin seems to glow, and he looks impossibly soft, messy curls framing his face with an effortless grace, Koutarou’s old sweater hugging him snugly. Koutarou is filled with sudden, overwhelming fondness.

“C’mere,” he says, and he pulls Akaashi into his lap until he can wrap both his arms around the other boy. They slide down further into the kotatsu until Koutarou’s back is against the couch, Akaashi’s head tucked underneath his chin. Koutarou runs a hand up and down Akaashi’s spine absently. “Better?”

“Mm,” murmurs Akaashi, sounding sleepy already. He sinks into Koutarou’s warmth, and Koutarou listens to the quiet sound of his breathing, matching up with the steady rhythm of his own heart beating.


	2. your love was handmade for somebody like me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edit: pls look at this [art](http://pesky33.tumblr.com/post/160129956313/i-had-a-request-from-fantasy-zelda-for-bokuto) that pesky drew of this exact situation, i'm speechless?? i think i saw this piece a while ago but i forgot about it but i'm so happy because it's!!!!! so good and i really love this headcanon!!

The paper in his hands have started to turn wrinkly and white instead of the beautiful gold it started with. Keiji unfolds it again, frustrated scowl on his face. He peers at the book flipped open in front of him, but it yields no solutions that he understands. He looks back at the little square paper he’s torturing. Keiji groans out loud.

“Akaashi? You okay?”

“No.” 

Keiji drops the paper onto the table, and glances across where Bokuto is sitting with his own paper. Between the both of them, there are three separate piles of origami paper, solid colours, patterned, sparkly, and graphic. There’s a small section of the table for completed products, and on the other side, there’s a larger section of the table full of failures. Mostly Keiji’s failures. Bokuto seems to be doing just fine.

“How are you doing that?” he demands, gesturing to the tiny paper bird forming in Bokuto’s hands.

“Hm? Oh, I just folded it like the book said.”

“But  _ how _ ?”

Bokuto leans over the table, blinking at the poor piece of paper in Keiji’s clenched fists. “Do you need help, Akaashi?”

“ _ No. _ ”

“Okay,” Bokuto says easily. He gives Keiji one of his bright, encouraging grins before going back to his paper crane. With a quick fold here and there, its wings are brought to life, and it takes off onto Bokuto’s side of the table, along with his other masterpieces.

Meanwhile, Keiji glares down at the book of instructions. The helpful little illustrations make no sense to him. There’s a little mascot for the book, a paper dragon sort of thing, but instead of looking all whimsical and cheerful, Keiji just thinks it’s taunting him. He discards the wrinkly gold paper in his hands and reaches for another one.

He tries again, but when he reaches the fifth step, he’s still horribly confused. He unfolds and refolds but no matter how he does it, the paper just looks like a flat mess of lines and wrinkles. Keiji can feel the familiar burning behind his eyes and the angry set in his jaw when something isn’t going like he planned. He’s at the top of his class, never once taken a supplementary lesson, the starting setter for a prestigious powerhouse school, had the privilege of taking many extracurricular classes and being exposed to several sets of skills before he decided to focus on volleyball, and yet. Yet this stupid little piece of paper is getting the better of him.

Keiji swallows with difficulty. He drops the paper, and sits back. 

“Akaashi?” Bokuto’s voice is gentle, and Keiji hates it.

“I’m not pouting.”

Bokuto coughs. “I never said you were.” He reaches across the table and picks up the paper that Keiji drops. “Hey, this is pretty good! You’re just missing a couple folds here, like this...”

When Bokuto hands it back, Keiji can see the body of the crane. He stares at it, frowning. “How come you’re so good at this?” he blurts.

“I don’t know,” Bokuto answers truthfully. “But it’s fun, isn’t it?”

Keiji certainly doesn’t think so. He places the wobbly crane on the table, and glances over at the pile of finished origami pieces. There’s a colourful array of paper animals, paper planes, paper buildings, even a few kanji-shaped things. It looks delicate and beautiful, and if Keiji isn’t here to witness it himself, it’s pretty hard to imagine they all came from Bokuto’s large, strong hands.

He turns his gaze to the boy sitting in front of him. Bokuto’s humming as he teases another piece of paper into a bird-like shape. His hands work carefully and gently, but still with the certainty and clarity he possesses on court. It’s a little mesmerizing to watch, if Keiji is being honest. 

“Here,” Bokuto says, and Keiji blinks, lost in the familiar quiet calm of watching Bokuto’s movements. With both hands, Bokuto lifts the finished piece, and presents it to Keiji.

“It’s... an owl,” Keiji says dumbly. He holds it with reverent hands, almost afraid to touch it too much. The owl is made of gold, white, and black, captured in the moment before it takes flight, wings spread wide and holding something in its beak. 

“It’s a heart,” Bokuto explains, pointing. He smiles at Keiji, all warmth and contentment. “It’s my heart, because I’m giving it to you, get it?”

Keiji can’t find his words. He looks back down at the paper owl in his hands, Bokuto’s handmade love, and doesn’t try to hide the smile spreading across his face.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm literally always crying about these volleyowls @puddingcatbae on tumblr/twitter


End file.
